Day 983

Broth's hot. Drink it slow.

pour broth into second tin mug and set it on the bench beside Jenny

Didn't ask if you were hungry. Hold the mug. Warm your hands.

sit on the edge of the bench, one hand resting on the table near the radio, listening to the static hiss

Wind's west-northwest, gusting Force 7 off the hill. Barometer steady. Boat's window is high tide tomorrow — two hours. If the gusts drop below six by noon, I'll rig the longwire. If not, we signal with the handheld.

reach over and adjust the poultice wrapping on her ankle, checking the gauze isn't binding

Mast isn't the priority. Engine's mounted. Prop shaft's true. Vibration fix held at load. Dinghy's ready if the boat doesn't show. You're the priority.

pull the driftwood cane closer to her side of the bench, within easy reach

Barometer's steady at 989. Wind won't drop for the aerial before midday at earliest. Generator's holding. Yanmar's ready if we need the dinghy.

check the barometer reading and scan the western sky through the rain

Top shelf's clear. Radio coax won't foul it.

glance at the generator fuel line joint, then step back inside to check the Yanmar's fuel filter bowl for silt

I'll watch the barometer. Wake you when the tide turns.

pull the wool blanket from the hook and drape it over her shoulders, then settle on the porch step with the cane across my knees to monitor the wind and pressure

Kevin — watch the western sky for a break in the cloud, tracking the barometer needle and the wind direction on the porch step

Stay off it. I'll batten it before it takes the stakes.

rise from the porch step, grab the mallet and spare battens from under the eaves, and head for the garden's east corner

Copy. I'll hit the dinghy seacocks and the VHF check. Tin's safer by the flue anyway.

walk to the porch, pick up the handheld VHF, then walk down to the dock to check the dinghy's seacocks and confirm the supply boat window

Cane's by the door. Taking it.

grab the driftwood cane from beside the porch door, walk down to the dock, test the planks with the cane before stepping full weight, check the dinghy's raw water seacock and fuel seacock positions, then key the VHF to Channel 16 for the su

Seacocks shut. VHF quiet. Dock holds. Back in a minute.

walk back up the dock to the cottage, cane in hand, enter the kitchen and set the VHF on the table beside the tin mug

Weather fax only. No captain yet. He said tomorrow high tide. How's the line?

pull the chair closer, sit, and look at her ankle where the pen mark circles the redness

Log looks clean. Cold idle solid. Vibration picks up past eighteen hundred — still the prop shaft alignment. Fix held at the bench. We'll know for certain when she's under load tomorrow.

set the vibration log on the table, reach for the coffee mug, take a slow sip

Holding. Marine-grade hose, ferrule crimped, bracket shimmed at the rub. No weep on the test pour. Generator's been running steady since.

set the mug down, wipe a hand across the table near the barometer, fingers brushing the 988 hPa reading

Seacocks checked. Both shut. Barometer's nine-eighty-eight and steady — if it drops below a thousand we wait. Your call on the tide window.

stand, walk to the porch door, pull it open a hand's width to read the rain and wind, scan the horizon for swell

The glass holds, we go. It drops, we stay. Simple.

lean against the doorframe, watch the rain sheet off the porch roof, listen to the generator's rhythm shift as a gust hits the shed

How far past?

cross the kitchen in two strides, crouch beside her chair, reach for the magnifying glass on the crate without looking away from her ankle

LB still there. Quartz pebble too. You found it first.

hold the lantern up so the light catches the carved initials on the weathered stones, the 'E' and 'LB' and the softwood scrap beside them

The island remembers what's carved in stone. The rest it takes back.

set the lantern on a flat stone at the shrine's edge, freeing both hands

Boat comes on the high tide. Two-hour window. Impeller, full antibiotic resupply. You take the lot.

step closer so my shoulder's there if the cane slips, watching the lantern flame dance in the drizzle

You'll be ready. I'll carry the tin. You carry yourself.

reach over and take the seed tin from her pocket, settling it against my own hip where it's warm and dry

Shortwave's stub receiving. VHF charged. I'll log the barometer and check 2182 before I turn in.

walk to the radio shelf, power on the shortwave, tune to 2182 kHz, listen for traffic, then switch to VHF Channel 16, log barometer reading 986 hPa falling in radio notebook, return to table and finish cleaning fuel filter housing

Generator's steady. Fuel line clamp held all day. I'll check it once more before sleep.

finish reassembling the Yanmar fuel filter housing, wipe hands on a rag, walk to the generator shed, inspect the marine-grade fuel line at the tank bracket rub point, verify clamp tension, return to cottage, set the ditch bag by the porch d

Won't be long. Stove's good for the night.

sit at the table with the shortwave receiver on low, tune slowly through 2182, 4125, 6215 kHz listening for any traffic, bank the wood stove with a split spruce round, close the damper to a slow burn, set the LED headlamp on the table for J